


Task Force Tartarus

by A_MX



Series: Trans-related Fics [2]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Military, Alternate Universe - War, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Genderfluid Character, Major Character Injury, Military, Nonbinary Character, Not Canon Compliant, Trans Character, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-26 02:11:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20381974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_MX/pseuds/A_MX
Summary: Argo Leader to Argo Bird, Grace shouts, and the radio comes to life. Jackson is next to her, popping a flare into the grenade launcher. Argo Bird, give em hell.Rated M because of war, death, blood,  etc etc.





	Task Force Tartarus

**Author's Note:**

> Originally, I was just pissed about the lack of proper queer representation in fic and on a whim decided to try and write a thingy. Couldn't sleep anyway so why not. Turned out far more dark than I had planned but oh well, that's life.

The helicopter comes to a halt hovering right above the ground and even more so than before, the adrenaline kicks in. Grace is the first to jump the remaining few feet onto the ground, Valdez right behind her, the rest of the crew follows suit. Jackson is third and Chase’s feet haven’t touched the ground yet when the sound engines climbs a few octaves in pitch and the aircraft departs while the team quickly surveys the area.

Chase positions herself next to the door and Valdez starts priming the charges while Grace and Jackson cover their backs. The people inside must have heard them coming, the Hawk’s rotors aren’t exactly silent, they have to be quick to keep the element of surprise. Valdez gives them the thumbs up and they retreat from the door before he presses the button and blows the door frame out of the wall.

Grace goes in first and oh fuck it’s a narrow staircase and if there’s anyone at the far end waiting for them they’re gonna be meat salad. Grace seems to have come to the same conclusion and signals for a halt before taking the flashbang from her harness, pulling the pin and tossing it into the darkness around the corner.

It’s basically over after that. Jackson doesn’t even get to fire a shot, neither does Valdez. They’re out of the whole place less than two minutes after they went in and evac arrives another minute after, giving them more more than enough time to grab what led them here before Valdez plants another charge and the facility goes boom.

* * *

Grace is performing a handstand on the kitchen floor and nobody questions it. She insists it helps her think and all of them are used to it by now. It’s not like anyone can say anything against it, either. The people high up the hierarchy only ever see them when there’s medals to award and Big D knows they’re his best crew so he cuts them a little slack, not that he cares in the first place.

Valdez is playing with some wires, like he always does, and Chase is on her laptop, either texting with her girlfriend or reading up on whatever classified intel she isn’t supposed to have. She’s good like that, and if the people in charge of this stuff know, they never let it show and tolerate it.

Jackson wanders into their shared room, still rubbing sleep from their eyes. If the rest of the crew have witnessed them tossing and turning all night, they opt not to bring it up. They all get them, the sleepless nights, every once in a while, some more, some less.

Pronoun check, Chase calls over without taking her eyes off the screen. Definitely the girlfriend then.

‘She’ is fine for now, Jackson answers, heading into the kitchen corner and maneuvering around Grace to grab breakfast from the fridge. Leftovers. Nobody felt like cooking and Jackson doesn’t either. She ends up cooking often enough, and more often than not, the food is blue. Nobody knows how she keeps smuggling dye into the Task Force’s quarters, but then again, she’s six feet and sports more medals than half the base combined, so chances are, nobody asks her to empty her pockets.

If any of the team were thinking such things, nobody voices them and the room soon falls silent again, but for the clicking of the keyboard and the sound of Jackson munching.

* * *

Argo Leader to Argo Bird, Grace shouts, and the radio comes to life. Valdez is unable to make out the next few words as he leaves his cover, blindly firing in the vague direction of the enemy soldiers, before leaping around the corner next to Chase, but at some point, Grace puts down the radio and picks up her rifle again. Jackson is next to her, popping a flare into the grenade launcher, giving her a questioning look. She nods and Jackson aims their rifle upwards, launching the flare.

Argo II to Argo Bird, that’s Jackson on the radio, this time, flare is up, I repeat, look for the flare. Give em hell, Grace adds. Argo Team, move out.

Chase fires around the corner, providing suppression fire as the rest of the team run. Jackson gets behind a pillar and starts laying down more cover fire while Chase leaves her cover and catches up with them. The chopper is above their heads now and they run and behind them, the Hawk’s gunner runs lead into the ground at several thousand rounds per minute and if they can just make it a few hundred metres more to the landing zone, they can get the hell out of here.

The bird touches down and everything goes wrong almost instantly. The LZ that looked deserted just a few minutes ago turns into a clusterfuck of gunfire and if they thought they’d gotten rid of their pursuers, they were wrong. Valdez catches sight of a reflection up by a window and then Chase catches a .50 round into the shoulder and Grace is screaming man down, man down, medic, and it’s a fucking disaster. Jackson tries to take out the sniper and then someone fires a grenade and takes out Jackson and then it’s just Valdez and Grace sweeping up the two others and finally, finally the birds guns come to life and they carry the wounded into the chopper and Mason lets the engines roar while the medic abandons the minigun to tend to his patients.

* * *

They make it back and the adrenaline wears off and everything feels incredibly slow and numb yet so present. Valdez is fiddling with some wires again with some stuff and Grace is sure she can hear the individual molecules of the insulation move against each other, hyper-aware of her breathing, barely listening to the medics, taking over Jackson and Chase as soon as the sound of the rotors dies down. She can feel herself nodding mechanically and someone helps them out of their gear and puts warm coats around them, shock blankets, Grace thinks, and someone else leads them away while the tech crew gathers around the Hawk and starts inspecting the damage.

There’s debriefing and they have to sign their reports and then there’s more reports, two officers from intel interview them about the mission and Valdez recounts everything he remembers while Grace only speaks up when she remembers a detail he didn’t mention. They cope, Valdez by talking too much, Grace by talking too little.

She has to phone Chase’s girlfriend and break the news of the injury to her, and then she has to phone Jackson’s brother and it never really gets easier. She could have left it to Big D, commanding officer and whatnot, but she prefers to do it herself. The old man has a reputation for being tactless and she’d rather he didn’t fuck this up.

* * *

Jackson looks so peaceful when she sleeps, Grace thinks. Except for when she has nightmares. The medical staff told her Jackson is supposed to wake up later and Grace insisted she be present then so Jackson can see a familiar face when she wakes up. Until then, waiting. The sun is well past noon, a few doctors come by every few hours to check their readings.

Jackson wakes up and thank gods she doesn’t freak out, although that might have to do with the amount of sedatives in her IV. You don’t want to risk six feet of bear-shaped, combat-trained, muscle-packed soldier to wake up and mistake the hospital for a combat situation, usually. What seems to be the entire medical faculty swarms the room and shoos Grace away from the bed and she can see the confusion and drowsiness in Jackson’s eyes, turning into relief as she sees Grace. The medics talk and whatnot and later an officer comes by to announce that there will be a debriefing later and one of the medic stares at him until he flees the room and finally Grace is alone with Jackson.

Hey, Jackson murmurs, weak grin, quietly, still knocked out from the drugs.

Hey there, Grace answers. Silence. Not the awkward kind.

Pronoun check? Grace finally asks.

I think they will do, Jackson answers and their mouth smiles but their eyes are restless, scanning the room. Is…? They begin to ask and Grace shakes her head.

Oh. Jackson is too drugged up to be shocked but she knows that they are.

I hoped, they say and Grace knows, she hoped as well, all of them hoped.

They tried, she says, but, she swallows. We lost her, she manages to say. I’m sorry.

Yeah, Jackson says. Me too. Both of them fall silent again until Jackson drifts off to sleep. Grace leaves their room. I’m sorry, she whispers.


End file.
